


On the Weekend

by edy



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Drag Queens, Established Relationship, F/M, Genderfluid Character, M/M, Sex Work, Trans Character, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-02 21:59:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16795564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edy/pseuds/edy
Summary: She never tried to pretend she was someone she was not, but I felt as if I knew her like no one else.





	On the Weekend

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: fuck gender roles
> 
> -
> 
> maybe one day, i can explore this more.

Saturday night was only a continuation of Friday. We never slept, never bothered to keep an eye on the clock. We were close friends with sweaty palms tapping shoulders and feet an upbeat march of sync. The city was our playground; the streetlights we imagined were made of neon, the cracks in the sidewalk actually the stars along a boulevard.

She was on my arm. Tonight, she paraded me, her hair a vibrant yellow that fell in curls down her back. They bounced with each step she took, speaking of men who touched her the night before, the men who had shouted at her to die, their faces red and wet—but also of the men who weren't disgusted when they dropped their hands between her legs and found a pair of testicles and a small penis untucked.

"They got excited," she told me, helping me onto our weekly perch of the ocean pier. "I'm sorry I let them touch me. I know you said you didn't mind, but I'm still sorry."

"Were they gentle?" I asked her.

She glanced around, admired the dark, and then whispered to me, "Can I show you?"

I never saw her as a liar or as a devil some of our friends liked to spread behind her back. They thought her two-faced, that the thin lines she drew for her eyebrows and the faux beauty mark she twisted under her left eye were not the only things she shoved in our faces to deceive us. "Deception isn't my thing," she said to me once, her fingers adept at smearing red lipstick over her mouth and flicking the wand of her mascara. "I don't hide anything. I only enhance."

She never tried to pretend she was someone she was not, but I felt as if I knew her like no one else.

I saw her with her shaved head. I saw her with her natural face and stubble across her cheeks.

I saw her when she was Sahlo Folina, and I saw her when she was Tyler, Tyler who hated waking up early and who I needed to tickle until he woke fully and cried as he laughed.

Every Sunday morning, we pulled on our suits and went to church with our families. We shared the same pews and shared the same hymns. I kissed his mother's cheek and shook his father's hand. If they knew, they uttered no word.

The next weekend, she wore a maroon wig to match my tie and kissed my mouth until her lipstick became mine.


End file.
